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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29380602">Hey! Look! Listen! (Watch Out!)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan/pseuds/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan'>Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>League of Legends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other, Past Character Death, Psychological Horror, tfw you get scared shitless of your own writing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:56:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29380602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan/pseuds/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“But remember that good intentions pave many roads. Not all of them lead to hell.” ― Neal Shusterman</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fiddlesticks &amp; Original Character(s), Fiddlesticks &amp; Original Male Character(s), Fiddlesticks &amp; Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hey! Look! Listen! (Watch Out!)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangecrushcrushcrush/gifts">orangecrushcrushcrush</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Technically a reader-insert, but I did make picrews for the characters in this story, so if you want, go check them out <a href="https://hyllaswriting.tumblr.com/post/642899462119899136/brother-and-sister-picrews-used-1-2/">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your little sister had only gotten worse after your parents disappeared.</p><p>She was always prone to nightmares—especially with the legends of monsters lurking in the woods surrounding your village—but at least back then, your parents had been there to comfort her, to reassure her that nothing was going to get her as long as she stayed away from the woods at night.</p><p>Now you weren’t even sure if they were alive.</p><p>It was supposed to be a simple trip to the market. They promised they’d be back in no time, despite your sister’s insistence they stay home and protect her from the monsters. Weeks later, their cart was found abandoned in the middle of a dusty road, their horses being tended to by a farmer and his wife who lived nearby.</p><p>Their bodies were never recovered.</p><p>Since they disappeared, her nightmares became more frequent, more vivid. She’d wake up screaming almost every night, sobbing about spindly metal fingers scrabbling against her bedroom window, crows swarming her bedroom and filling her mouth and lungs with their feathers, or a cacophony of voices wailing in her ears, voices that belonged to people she didn’t even know.</p><p>You try your best to comfort her, you really do.</p><p>But every time you try to hug her, you can feel it in her posture as she remains stiff in your arms.</p><p>Every time you tell her it’s going to be okay, you can hear it in her voice that she doesn’t believe you.</p><p>(Sometimes you don’t believe it, either.)</p><p>And every time you look at her, you can see it in her eyes that you’ll never be as good as your parents were.</p><p>One night you go to throw a fresh log into the fireplace, only to find nothing on the rack where you usually keep them. You don’t want to go outside this late at night, but you also know your sister will be even less susceptible to your flimsy attempts at comforting her if the house is dark and cold when she wakes up from her latest nightmare.</p><p>So, with great reluctance, you poke your head into her bedroom and tell her you’re going outside to gather some more firewood. You won’t be gone long, just stay in your room and don’t open the door for anyone, no matter what.</p><p>Then, she practically throws herself off the bed and grabs you by the arm, begging you to please please please don’t go, I’ll be so scared without you, I can go without the fireplace for one night, just don’t leave me like Mommy and Daddy did.</p><p>Even as she insists she doesn’t need the fireplace, you can already feel her trembling at the very thought of it, her grip on your arm becoming less firm as tears formed in her eyes.</p><p>You don’t want to leave her, you really don’t.</p><p>But you will. For her.</p><p>You repeat the instructions you gave her earlier, tuck her back into bed, then retrieve your ax and head into the woods.</p><p>You’re able to collect firewood without too much trouble, and you haul your knapsack over your shoulder as you begin the trek back home.</p><p>You finally notice the crows, watching you from the tops of the trees. There are too many of them. Far too many.</p><p>You try to ignore the fact that they all seem to be looking straight at you.</p><p>Eventually, you notice how the wind sounds less like wind and more like the sound of flapping wings, of whispers carried through the trees and getting under your skin and chilling you to the bone.</p><p>You try to ignore the fact that if you listen hard enough, you can <em>almost </em>make out what they’re saying.</p><p>You can tell you’re almost at the edge of the forest, and you resist the urge to sigh in relief. Your fast walk turns into a light jog, and you almost break into a sprint until—</p><p>Voices. You hear them, drifting from the direction of your house. Calling for your sister.</p><p>It can’t be.</p><p>It can’t it can’t <em>it can’t be them— </em></p><p>We’re home, they say. We’re sorry we took so long but we’re home now and we’re never going to leave you ever again, and it can’t be true because their bodies were never found, you attended their funeral and lowered their caskets into the ground, <em> they couldn’t be alive, not after all this time. </em></p><p>You finally make it out of the woods, hear the firewood fall to the ground with a thump and you brandish your ax because <em>the front door is wide open. </em></p><p>There’s no sign of them. No sign of any disturbances or break-ins. Each footstep is nothing but cautious as you slowly make your way to your sister’s bedroom.</p><p>You poke your head around the corner.</p><p>Her door is open.</p><p>You run inside, caution thrown to the wind as you scan her empty room in a panic, shouting her name until your voice goes hoarse. Oh god, where did she go, she couldn’t have gone far and you know despite everything, she wouldn’t disobey your instructions, so <em>where the hell did she go— </em></p><p>“Brother?”</p><p>Your head whips to the doorway, and you go out into the hallway and—</p><p>There’s someone there.</p><p>But it’s not your sister.</p><p>“Brother, please…”</p><p>It tilts its head, and the motion makes a distinctly inhuman noise that sounds like branches snapping underfoot.</p><p>You hear the voices of your parents, your sister, and—</p><p>
  <em> “I’m so scared.” </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p><p>
  <a href="https://hyllaswriting.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://twitter.com/hyllaswriting/">Twitter</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3Kgn3UmjBvemi0Pj50C7o1?si=aTnsWbiRS2KuPC1gsPuwog">Fiddlesticks playlist</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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